Adventures with Bucky: 34 Years Going on 100 (8)
by MerlinOfTheShire
Summary: When Bucky's birthday comes around after the events of Civil War, he is given the opportunity to celebrate for the first time since the 40', but he doesn't want to. Steve, however, has planned a surprise party. (Set After Civil War & Adventures with Bucky: Two Days)


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

 **A/N**

 **The current order for the AWB series is Symbol, Return, Nightmare, Frisbee Game, The Dog and the Storm, Raccoon Guy, Two Days and finally 34 Years Going on 100**

 **I kind of invented a few places that either wouldn't still exist or never existed for the sake of the plot.**

* * *

 _Adventures with Bucky: 34 Years Going on 100_

When Bucky Barnes woke up one morning, on the 10th of March, 2017, it took him a moment before he remembered it was his birthday. Steve had been talking about it for days, mentioning it to all the Avengers. It was funny, as he had begun to rebuild his mind, his friends had been working endlessly to prove him innocent to the world, and it had proved successful. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows yet, but Steve was relatively getting along with Tony again. The accords were being re-written, taking into account the complaints of the public.

They had all moved back to the USA. Steve and he had been offered a newer and bigger apartment, but hey had settled for a place in the Avengers Tower. They had also formed a plan about how to approach getting over his trigger words, thanks to Sam and an actual psychologist. Once the truth of how Hydra had treated him had hit the media, he had been offered just about every psychologist in the country, and more. It took a while to find one he trusted. Sometimes, though, he just needed to talk to Steve or Sam, while other times he needed to talk to someone who didn't have such a personal connection to him.

They had also found a word that would knock him out if he ever went Winter Soldier mode. Originally it was meant as an emergency shut down word that Hydra could use if ever appeared to be 'compromised'. Now, it was more of a safety net, in case he did get triggered by the words again. You still had to say them to find out if they still worked.

Nevertheless, the days leading up to his birthday had passed quickly, and Bucky found himself feeling increasingly unperturbed. He just didn't find any emotion in the idea of his birthday anymore, he knew he should, but he didn't. He hadn't celebrated his birthday since the 40's. Back in 2014, he was still wondering around, trying to figure out who he was again. When he finally went to Steve in 2015, his birthday had long since passed. When his birthday rolled around in 2016, they were fighting in a civil war. This year, however, nothing was preventing him from celebrating his birthday. Yet, he wasn't.

Groaning, he used his right arm to push himself out of bed. Brook, his German Shepherd, jumped off, following his lead. He had gotten used to only having one arm, and he now found it easier to switch out of his P'J's into some normal daily attire. It had taken a while, especially learning how to balance with the massive weight of his metal arm pulling on his shoulder. He looked at the clock on the wall; it read 6:00. He'd overslept. Brook looked at him inquisitively; he scratched her ears affectionately.

Quietly, he made his way down to the massive kitchen to make himself some breakfast, Brook trotting behind him. Eventually, he found his way there and was met with the sight of Steve, who was seated down at the counter.

Wordlessly, Steve smiled and rose from his seat, "happy birthday, Bucky," he said, embracing him.

Bucky smiled, returning the embrace happily. "Thanks' Steve," he replied.

For a few more seconds, they continued the embrace, without it feeling awkward. They did that sometimes: hold each other like they were trying to catch up on all their lost time together. It was nice.

Feeling more awake, Bucky pulled back. "So, what's for breakfast?" he asked, trying to sound more outgoing than he felt. This was important to Steve, so he felt he should try to feel for engaged.

Steve smiled, "Eggs, bacon, toast, and whatever else you like," Steve replied, gesturing to the items of food waiting on the counter.

"Plum's please," he said, taking a seat at the counter.

"Of course, Buck," Steve said, moving to the fridge to retrieve the fruit. He handed two plums to Bucky with a smile before turning to start preparing the eggs. "How would you like your eggs?" he asked.

"Fried," Bucky replied, his mouth full of plum.

They were quite for a few minutes, Steve preparing the eggs and bacon, Brook sniffing the air, and Bucky eating his plums.

Though Steve had his back turned to Bucky, he seemed to notice when he had finished eating the plums, because he began to speak again. "So, you up for going out for the day?" Steve asked.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, "what did you have in mind?" he asked.

"Oh I don't know, I thought we could visit a few places, maybe toss the shield once or twice," Steve replied.

Bucky smirked, ducking his head at the memory of the famed Frisbee game. "Sounds good to me. What places are you thinking?" Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, serving the breakfast, "You'll see."

* * *

Bucky scanned the surrounding buildings through the car window, his brow furrowed. "I know these buildings," he said. He recognised the old looking buildings, mixed in with the newer skyscrapers; a massive cable-suspension bridge in the distance.

Steve looked at him hopefully, "yea?"

Bucky nodded, "Yea, this is Brooklyn, isn't it?"

Steve nodded, smiling. "Yep, it is,"

Bucky frowned, though he could feel himself smiling slightly. "What are we doing here, Steve?"

Steve suddenly pulled up in front of a particularly old building, kept standing my renovation and reinforcement. A sign at the front declared it a school, no longer in function, but protected as a historical sight.

"Sight-seeing," Steve answered, stepping out of the car.

Curiously, Bucky stepped out of the car, followed closely behind by Brook. He knew this place, he realised. "This is our old school," he said suddenly, surprising himself.

"It is," Steve confirmed, approaching an old tree, still standing just outside the school.

"This is where we first met," Bucky said, looking around himself, smiling fondly. "You had just gotten your arse beaten in a fight; your nose was all bloody," he said, smiling fondly at the memory.

"Yeah, and you came over and called me out on picking fights with people twice my size, offered to teach me how to throw a punch properly," Steve added, guiding Bucky to the other side of the tree.

Bucky frowned. Taped on the tree, was a folded piece of paper, the number 1 written neatly on it. Glancing at Steve, he reached for the note and opened it. Inside was a sketch of Steve and him, both around 13 years old. Steve was sitting down on the ground while Bucky offered his hand. Bucky smiled. On the bottom of the note was Steve's neat handwriting. Bucky read the words. _Bucky, when we first met, we didn't know what was ahead of us_.

Bucky looked back to Steve, "what's this?"

"You'll see," he replied reassuringly, gesturing for Bucky to follow him back to the car. Bucky did, curious as to what Steve had planned. He slipped the note into his pocket.

* * *

The next place the pulled up to was also an older building. An apartment building. Bucky recognised the place instantly, having seen it in one of the first memories he remembered. "This is your apartment," he said, smiling slightly as he stepped out of the car.

Steve smiled, nodding his head as he followed Bucky. "You used to stop by here all the time, to check on me, especially after my mum passed on. I swear you were here just about every day, making sure I was still eating and sleeping or sometimes even breathing. I eventually set up some couch cushions for you to sleep on," Steve said, climbing the stairs of the old apartment.

"I wouldn't have had too if you weren't the kind of person to leave his house keys under a cinderblock," Bucky said, earning a laugh from Steve.

"You got me there," he replied, stepping aside so Bucky could see a new note attached to the door.

Starting to get the idea, Bucky reached for the second note, this one with a number 2 written on it. The sketch showed Steve lying on an old single bed, himself on the floor next to him, couch cushions as a makeshift mattress. He read the writing below it. _Even if I did know what was coming, it wouldn't stop me from being your friend._

"Steve," Bucky said, reading the words again.

"It's true Buck," Steve reassured, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Bucky nodded his head, "Ok,"

* * *

This time they had to walk further, and Steve carried his shield with him. They were in an alleyway, it was dark and hidden, just outside an old movie theatre. But it was familiar.

He wasn't sure how, though, and that troubled him.

Seeming to sense this, Steve gestured to the inside of alley, another note visible on the wall. "This is the last place I got beat up before you headed out for the 107," he clarified, his voice more dejected than before.

"Oh," Bucky responded, moving towards the note. He trusted Steve to have drawn an accurate sketch of the event. True enough, the number 3 note showed a sketch of himself, in full uniform, looking at Steve as he dusted himself off, presumably from the fight that Bucky had just gotten him out of. He smiled slightly; Steve hadn't changed much. He read the words. _Because no matter how much pain, fear and struggle we would face, it would never amount to how much love, friendship, and adventure there was to come._

Bucky felt a lump form his throat, "Steve," he said again, turning to his friend, feeling all kinds of emotions.

Steve stepped forward, his own eyes looking a little red. "Yea, Buck?"

"You're a Punk," he said simply, voice threatening to break.

Steve gave a small laugh, "Jerk."

* * *

They didn't go to the car next but instead kept walking for a moment until they reached a wide open space, remnants of the 40's everywhere, overshadowed by newer architecture. "What is this place, Steve?" he asked.

"It's the last place I saw you until I found you in that Hydra Base," Steve said, his voice calm and truthful.

Bucky nodded, understanding. This was where everything changed forever. "This is where that science convention was held, isn't it?" he asked, moving to note number 4.

Steve nodded in confirmations, "and where I was enlisted into the army," he added.

Bucky opened the note. The sketch was of Steve and himself embracing, the last embrace they had for a long time. He read the words, deciding to add in the previous sentences. _I hope you feel the same way, but I understand if you don't._

Folding the note, Bucky turned to Steve, "I wouldn't stop me from being your friend either, Steve," he said reassuringly, sensing his friend's sudden vulnerability.

Steve smiled, "Thank you Bucky," he said, voice breaking.

* * *

"Is this the last place, Steve?" Bucky asked, recognising the location. It was Steve's old apartment, where he had first shown up on Steve's doorstep. A For Sale sign was present on the lawn.

"Until we go home, yeah," Steve answered.

Slowly, Bucky got out of the car and approached the front door, a note taped to it with the number 5. Steve followed, coming to a stop next to him, Brook in-between them both. He opened the note with careful fingers; the sketch showed himself, standing outside the door, his hair and clothes wet; and his metal arm covered. Divided by a wall, Steve stood on the other side, in the apartment, frozen with shock. It illustrated the day Bucky came back.

Feeling himself beginning to shake, Bucky looked to read the next words. _Turn around._

Bucky felt himself grown sheepish, "You're not going to propose to me are you Stevie?" he asked jokingly.

Steve laughed, "Just turn around,"

Bucky complied, and his eyes met with Steve's red ones, tears threatening to spill. Though his eyes said sadness, his smile conveyed happiness. "Bucky, when we first met, we didn't know what was ahead of us. Even if I did know what was coming, it wouldn't stop me from being your friend. Because know matter how much pain, fear and struggle we would face, it would never amount to how much love, friendship, and adventure there was to come. I hope you feel the same way, but I understand if you don't," Steve paused, drawing breath. "I just wanted you to know that no matter what, you are and always will be my best friend, and not even the end of the line will change that," Steve finished, tears freely running down his face.

Not hesitating, Bucky pulled his friend into an embrace, arm wrapped tightly around Steve's back as his friend's head rested on his shoulder. Steve returned the embrace, letting himself cry into Bucky's shoulder. "Thank you, Steve," Bucky said, allowing his own tears to fall as he smiled.

* * *

When Bucky and Steve had finally returned to the Avengers Tower, instead of heading to their rooms, Steve led Bucky to the bar. They stopped at the door, where another note was placed. Bucky opened it; there were words first. _Happy Birthday, Bucky. Love, Steve._

Bucky smiled, before looking at the sketch. Suddenly, he frowned. The image showed Bucky looking surprised as hell as the entire collected Avengers had their hands raised in the air, all seeming to be shouting something.

At that moment, Steve pushed the door opened, grinning broadly.

"SURPRISE!"

Bucky nearly jumped out of his skin.

There, in the room, was all of the Avengers, including a few others such as T'challa, that spider kid, ant-dude, and some guy with some sort of golden-horned helmet. All of them were in various states of excitement.

The room was filled with colourful lights, balloons and food. There were so many plums. Better yet, over the course of the next few hours, Bucky was given around five new eyeliners, about 100 hair ties, a new phone, and an offer for a new prosthetic arm from Tony, which he agreed too. Steve, waiting for a quiet moment, had later approached him again with a wrapped present. He had opened it carefully, and inside was a sketchbook, filled with sketches of events of their lives, including the ones from the notes. The sketchbook also had a few blank pages for the future. He had given Steve another hug after that.

Eventually, the room grew quiet, and the lights were dimmed. A few moments late, the people around him began to sing happy birthday. It was horrible. He loved it. As this happened, a cake was brought out, covered in exactly 100 flaming candles. When it came to chanting hip hip hurray, his friends did this exactly 100 times.

Needless to day, Bucky was getting real tired of everybody's shit.


End file.
